


Madame...

by Darkhorse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Background Character Death, Discussions of the Terror, Guillotine, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhorse/pseuds/Darkhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Javert's mother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madame...

**Author's Note:**

> Based of a lesson in my French Revolution course. Also my effort to keep hold of this fandom, having just found Star Trek... If Javert sounds like a Vulcan, please tell me.

"Javert, what happened to your mother?"  
He looked over at Valjean, sitting on the other side of the fireplace, dwarfed by his chair "Why do you ask, thinking about your sister again?"  
Valjean nodded eyes on the flames "And how much I chatter on about them, yet I know nothing of yours." The gentle eyes lifted to meet his.  
He shifted slightly in his chair "She's dead... She died when I was thirteen, on the 28th December. They didn't call it that then." He turned his own gaze to the flames, "I can be so precise because I saw her die, on La Concorde. She went to that great leveller...  
"Death judges all men equal."He shook his head, tasting a bitterness so strong it was metallic "She had an appointment with Madame... That is, that very precise and even handed administerer of justice, The National Razor.  
There was a gasp, then a gulp "God have mercy on her soul"  
"Hers, and all the others who went that way, for the most menial of crimes... Not even a loaf of bread" He tried to throw a wry smile to Valjean, but was aware it fell short.

The ache, almost 40 years old, knawed at him as it had never done before. When it had happened, they had been estranged, he was already tagging with the police. Besides to greive one who went that way was to invite a similar fate. And she had broken the law, the infallible law. But now... Now he knew the law was fallible, Jean had taught him that, and taught him that love streched over all bounds, if you asked it to.  
He watched the white haired man by the light of the fire. He loved Jean... And perhaps, under his devotion to the law, he had loved his mother too.  
Perhaps that was why he'd claimed leave to be educated as to the ways of justice, had been there in the crowd to see her brought along in the tumbrel, see her walk on the scaffold, see the blade come down.  
Then he'd been ashamed, now he hoped she'd seen him, hoped she'd understood, maybe taken comfort that he was there, as she had been when he was little.  
He could only hope...

**Author's Note:**

> The day you discover Guillotine is a tag...


End file.
